


65. Dinner and a Walk

by glitteredsins, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Antony Starr and Stephen Amell [65]
Category: Actor RPF, Arrow (TV 2012) RPF, Banshee (TV) RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), New Zealand Actor RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 09:28:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6323938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredsins/pseuds/glitteredsins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Warnings for verbal humiliation, fisting, <i>discussion</i> of future hardcore scene</p>
    </blockquote>





	65. Dinner and a Walk

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for verbal humiliation, fisting, _discussion_ of future hardcore scene

Dinner had been at some lovely little steak house that Stephen had had recommended to him, it had been close enough to Venice Beach that he'd suggested they go for a walk before heading home. He has two more days before hiatus and as much as he adores his job… Stephen's more than ready to be done. He's tired, and he's desperate to have some serious down time. "Enjoy that?" he asks - meaning dinner.

"Very much. The food was fantastic and I really liked the ambiance of the place," Antony says with a smile, careful to keep his hands in his pockets for the moment. He's always way too tempted to touch Stephen after a romantic dinner. "How was your dessert? Good enough you'd want to come back?"

"Oh hell yes," Stephen nods, grinning. "And I cannot wait to be done so I can eat more dessert," he wrinkles his nose up, "Having said that, you need to make sure I don't do too much damage to my weight." At this point in filming Stephen is about as ripped as he ever gets, there's not an ounce of fat on him.

"Time for boxing," Antony says with a grin. "You do that and you'll be able to eat whatever you want."

"Okay," Stephen nods. "You're on." He eyes his lover for a moment. "You think you could show me some of the more dirty type of fighting too?" he asks moments later.

"Sure," Antony nods, looking at Stephen then out across the sand, the boardwalk at its quietest point of the evening. "You want to learn weapons too or just hand-to-hand stuff?"

"Hand-to-hand." He scratches the back of his neck. "For now." He's still not sure how he feels about the rest.

Antony nudges their shoulders together. "I promised you a hardcore scene for when you were next off," he says. "If we're going to go visit my family, we should probably do that right away so you have time to recover."

Stephen's head snaps around to look at his lover, his attention narrowing to nothing but the man beside him. "How hard core?" And suddenly he has a mish mash of wicked images racing through his mind. He knows Antony's wanted things they've not dared to go near before, but with all this time off...

"Off site to start with," Antony says. "Probably the gym."

"To start with?" Stephen's gaze narrows. He knows Antony is going to want to negotiate the hell out of this before going into it, the more they talk the more boundaries they can push.

Antony shakes his head. "I just meant I don't want to do it at Citadel. I'd rather be in my own space. Set things up myself."

"Ahhh," Stephen nods his understanding, they walk a few more steps before he speaks again. "I'm kind of torn, between wanting to tell you I trust you and you can do what you want... and still needing to negotiate, which I feel goes against the spirit of this. This is something we've talked about, this is not having to factor in my work needs... this is finally letting you have everything you want from me."

"I know but the last thing I want is to fuck things up between us," Antony says, leading them towards the pier, "and if I inadvertently step on some fucking landmine, it's not going to matter that you're mine or that we didn't put things off limits." He brushes his fingers over the back of Stephen's hand. "We can either negotiate and you tell me what you _really_ don't want happening or I'll tell you what _could_ happen but might not and that way I've got free rein within those parameters."

"Tell me what you want," Stephen tilts his head to look at his lover. "You know my hard limits, everything else is up for negotiation."

Antony glances around them, making sure no one's listening to their conversation. "I want to restrain you. Ropes, cuffs, chains. String you up. Cut your clothes off. I want to fuck you. Cock, fist, anything else I have had at hand..." He blows out a breath, figuring he'd better make it clear before going on that, "I won't do anything permanent, nothing that needs a hospital or medic, and I'll make sure you can easily meet my family a week or so later."

"I thought you'd want to beat me, my face..." Stephen can't hide the way Antony's words affect him, he's glad he has loose cargo pants on, but it shows more in the way his skin colours up. "I thought it'd be more about violence than sex."

"I do. I hadn't finished yet," Antony says with a slightly sheepish grin.

"I should have known," Stephen huffs out an amused noise and bump shoulders with his lover.

Antony grins, eyes crinkling. "So, continuing on... I want to beat you - face, cock, ass, every inch of your body. I want to put clamps on you, use a knife on you, my belt, chains... I want you in tears, begging me to stop, and I intend to keep you like that for hours..."

Stephen rubs his hand over his mouth, back and forth, his light stubble scratching his skin. So far all Antony's 'offered' - it is really an offer, or a demand? - is physical stimuli, physical pain. "What about humiliation, we rarely scene without that?"

"That'll be a huge part of it," Antony nods. How could it not, the way they play? "And my boots of course."

That simple statement out of everything else is the one that elicits a noise from Stephen, he covers it with a cough. "An all day thing? Full on, no real limits huh?" He's spent an unhealthy amount of time fantasising about this, about his Sir, his Sadist, having free rein, wondering how far Antony will go, how broken he will become beneath those hands and feet - that mind.

"Yup." Antony watches Stephen, gauging his reaction. "Is there anything you want to put off limit?" he asks. "Aside from your hard ones? Or anything you want to ask me for?"

"No scat, I don't mind so much if it's incidental, but not as a direct objective, my usual hard limits, and no one else... this is just us, it's really important to me that this is ours, and ours alone." He shoves his hands deep into his pockets, to anyone looking at them, they look like they're engaged in an intense conversation, no one would guess the subject matter. "And if you want to pierce me, I'd like that to happen then."

"Play piercing, you mean?" Antony clarifies.

"No." Stephen shakes his head and glances at his lover.

Fuck. As hard as that makes him... "Okay, but you told me your nipples were off-limits which leaves your cock, and I really doubt I'm qualified to do that."

"You can't learn? There's no one at the club that can teach you?" Stephen shrugs, as if this is a run of the mill conversation. "I just figured if I was going to be damaged and out of action, we might as well throw that in the mix and do it all in one go." That's not the real reason, but it's good enough for now.

Holy shit. It's not often anyone manages to throw Antony. Hardly ever. But this? He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, considering it, the primalness, the ownership of it, _marking_ his boy like that... "I'll find someone," he says, nodding more to himself than Stephen.

Stephen's brows arch at that reaction, his mouth curves up in a smile. "Thought you might, do you really think I'd want anyone else doing that to me? It's your right, I'm your property, no one else should do it."

Antony nods. "You're my property," he says softly, moving into Stephen's space, his boy backed up against the railing behind him. "I _own_ you," he adds, keeping his voice low, his words for them alone. "Every inch. Cock. Cunt. Inside and out."

Everything narrows down to just the man in front of him. He swallows hard, "Yes Sir," he murmurs, "I know this."

"Good, because when we get home, I'm going to put you on your hands and knees and put my fist in your cunt," Antony says as softly and casually as if he were discussing what they had for dinner.

Making a soft noise, one Antony will recognise as need, Stephen takes a step forward - moving into his Sir's physical space without thinking, without care of their surrounding.

"Careful, Stephen," Antony says more firmly, thinking he should know better. Especially when they're in actual public. "Do you want to finish our walk or head back to the car?"

It's the use of his name, something used to pull him back that brings Stephen up short. He blinks and sucks in a hard breath. "Yes," he nods, his response proving just how scrambled his head is right now. Talking about a hard scene and then that...yeah - brain fucked.

"C'mon. End of the pier and then we'll head back," Antony says, keeping Stephen on the outside, away from people and against the railing while he gathers himself. They could head back now but he wants them to be able to do this. Wants his boy to feel their connection as lovers and partners too.

Each step pulls Stephen more present, the breeze from the sea, the fresh air, the people moving past them, soon enough his head comes up and his shoulders square. He throws Antony a look, "You always play dangerous huh?" he smiles.

Antony smiles back. "Apparently, although I _try_ to behave. I should get points for that," he adds with a grin.

"Nope." Shaking his head, Stephen laughs. "That wasn't trying, you get no points."

"Aw..." Antony pretends disappointment. "What _do_ I get?" he leers, then pulls back, laughing again. "That's it. Apparently I can't behave myself. Not around you anyway," he says with another soft smile.

"This is news to you?" Stephen pretends to be shocked. "Really? Tony, you have not behaved since the moment we met."

"No?" Antony laughs. "Would you want me to behave?" he asks, grateful they're at the end of the pier and can now head back.

"Don't be ridiculous," Stephen snorts. "You wouldn't be my Tony." He risks another shoulder bump.

Antony smiles at the touch, as brief as it is. "Good, because you know I'd try. I just think it might be the one thing I'd fail at."

"Well, I guess I might need you to behave in short bursts on occasion, like if we're up visiting my parents, or seeing your family... think you can manage that at least?" He's teasing, and it's obvious in the way his eyes dance.

"Hm..." Antony makes like he has to think about it.

"Asshole," Stephen laughs, shaking his head.

Antony just grins. "Wait til I get you home."

"Promises, promises," Stephen sing songs, but of course his mind is very much on the promises his Sir made earlier, and he shivers in anticipation.

There's a moment in which Antony wishes he could reach out and take Stephen's hand. Walk with him like any other couple on the pier, the boardwalk. But that's not their world, not right now, and it might never be, depending on Stephen's career. "You know me," he says instead, picking up the pace just a little as they start the walk back. "I never go back on my word."

The moment they're back in the car, and Antony's pulling out of the parking space, Stephen's reaching over to put his hand on his lover's thigh, a simple touch, but it's contact that he needs.

Antony glances at Stephen then drops his hand from the wheel for a moment, giving Stephen's hand a squeeze. "It's going to be really weird having you meet my family," he says softly. "But good," he quickly adds. "I just haven't taken anyone home since - I don't know, high school?"

Stephen's brows shoot up in surprise. "That long?" He'd known there'd not been anyone 'significant' in recent years, but that's a long time. "Wow." But then it's been pretty much the same for him. Certainly he's never taken home someone he's in a D/s relationship with before.

"You'll see why when we're there," Antony laughs, giving Stephen's hand another squeeze. "My parents are lovely people but they can be a bit much." He smiles. "I wouldn't want to subject anyone to that unless they're going to have to deal with them on an ongoing basis."

"They know how serious we are?" Stephen assumes so, but like many things in his life Antony's contact with his family is unknown to him for the most part, he's been around for the odd phone call, but nothing regular. He'd assumed it was just something Antony did when he was at work.

"My mum does. I think my dad's trying to ignore it," Antony says with a laugh. "But he'll be fine once he meets you."

"Would he be ignoring it if I was a woman?" Stephen assumes so, he turns to look out the window, distracted for a moment.

"No." Antony shakes his head. "He's not thrilled I'm settling down with a man, but only because he knows I like women too. I think it would be easier for him to accept if I didn't."

"I'm assuming he'd have liked grandchildren from you too huh?" Turning back he watches Antony's face as his lover concentrates on the road.

"They'd be the ones to carry on the family name," Antony says. "But he'll be fine. Especially once you guys meet."

"Have you ever wanted children?" Stephen's thumb is brushing back and forth on Antony's thigh now, the denim warm beneath his hand. "I mean given it some serious thought?"

"I don't know about serious thought," Antony admits, stopping for a red. "But yeah, I've thought about it. I wouldn't mind being a dad. But I can't imagine doing it while I was still working." He looks over at Stephen. "What about you?"

"I've never been in a relationship serious enough to warrant serious consideration." Stephen shrugs. "Not until now."

"So... consider it," Antony says with a smile, mostly teasing, but not completely. "Kids or no kids? What's your gut say?"

Stephen's gut response surprises the hell out of him - and he says it before he can censor himself. "I'm not prepared to share you."

"Yeah?" Fuck. It's not the answer Antony was expecting, but when he thinks about it - the way they run their lives now, the way he can have Stephen on his knees whenever he wants, whisk him away for a weekend without thought... the idea of trying to fit kids into that. He nods. "I like things the way they are. Other than being away so much."

Blowing out a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding Stephen nods. "Good." His hand comes up to touch his collar, he's not aware of doing it, but it speaks of his discomfort at his own thinking. He's not prepared to be second to anyone ever again - he needs to know he's the only focus of Antony's love and attention.

"I love you," Antony says, reaching over to lay his hand on Stephen's thigh. "More than anything and you're all I need to be happy."

It's exactly what Stephen needed to hear, so much so that he wonders if he gave himself away, or if it was just Antony being particularly intuitive. "I love you too," he murmurs.

It doesn't take too long for them to get home at this time of night, the commuters long gone and the party-ers not yet out. Antony pulls into the garage and into their spot, meeting Stephen in front of the elevator, his thumb pressed against the pad. "When we get upstairs," he says, caging Stephen against the wall. "I want you naked. I'll switch out your collar and then you'll crawl into the bedroom. I want you standing in front of the windows."

A half nod, then 'Yes Sir', his hands flutter at his sides for a moment - as if he'd intended to touch his lover, instead he pushes them behind his back.

"Good boy," Antony murmurs, dragging his tongue across Stephen's lips, his jeans growing tighter, his whole body hotter at the thought of what's coming.

Later Stephen won't recall the rest of the journey up in the elevator, because the next thing he remembers is sinking to his knees, his clothes folded neatly and set aside on the floor of their private lobby. His focus has narrowed to his own body and the man stood before him.

Antony switches out Stephen's away collar for his home - slave - one and runs his fingers along its links, the lock closing it. "You make me so proud," he says softly, his voice firm but thick with lust. "My beautiful boy."

It's not new, he does it every day, swapping out his collars when he gets home, but there's an added thrill when Antony gets to do it, like an echo of that night when he offered up his submission to his Sir for good. Smiling Stephen offers up a soft "Thank you Sir, boy is glad he pleases."

Antony touches Stephen's cheek. Cups it in his palm for a long moment then nods, drawing back. "Bedroom, boy. Up against the windows."

Stephen drops to his hands and knees, he turns himself and makes his way down the hall, turning to make his way to their bedroom. His crawl is slow and steady, his posture perfect. When he reaches the huge floor to ceiling windows he stands and presses his hands to the glass, his legs spread. Displaying himself.

Antony follows Stephen, shedding his clothes as he goes. By the time he reaches his boy, he simply drops his jeans where he stands and moulds himself against Stephen's back, his cock pressed hard and insistent between his cheeks.

When skin is pressed to skin, Stephen's exhale is audible. It tells of his need, of how when Antony touches him like this - all is right in Stephen's world. He can feel the warmth of his Sir's breath against his neck. "You're everything to me Sir," he whispers. "Everything."

"I know," Antony murmurs, lips brushing over Stephen's skin. He feels the same. "I'm yours," he whispers. "All of me. All that I am." Hands caressing Stephen's sides, stroking everywhere. "Your Sir."

Stephen's skin goosebumps and he tilts his head, "Then love me, love me in the way only you can Sir."

Antony presses another kiss to Stephen's throat and then takes a step back, retrieving a small step stool and a container of thick lube. The stool goes behind Stephen and Antony takes a seat on it, slicking his hand and wrist and a good part of his forearm. "I'm going to open you up, boy. Work you until I can shove my fist in your cunt..."

It's been too long since they did this - it usually messes with Stephen's head to a point where he struggles with work the following day - but he can't find it in him to care about that. He needs this, needs his Sir to take him down. "Yes, please Sir...your pig loves being fist fucked."

"Loves being my fucking puppet, doesn't he," Antony says, using two fingers to work an extra glob of lube into Stephen's ass.

"Love being anything you want him to be Sir." Stephen closes his eyes and presses his forehead to the glass, his breath misting the surface.

"Eyes open, boy," Antony orders. "I want you looking out the window, thinking about all the people who _could_ see you like this," three fingers twisting deeper.

Whimpering Stephen lets that thought wash over him, thinks about all the people out there, the people he works with - seeing him being his Sir's slut, his fuck toy. His dick kicks up, precum spills from the tip, dripping down into a string that reaches the floor.

"Can you imagine what they'd pay for photos of this?" Antony continues, slowly working Stephen open, three fingers becoming four, his boy's hole giving beautifully. "Your cunt with my fingers inside it, opening you up, stretching you to take my whole fucking arm like a good little fuck pig..."

"Whatever Sir wants," Stephen slurs out, his fingers pressing hard into the glass, his knees flexing as he drops down an inch or so to open himself more.

"That's it. That's a good pig, give me that fucking hole..." Antony demands, trying for the widest part of his hand now, Stephen's muscles stretching more easily now that they've managed to do this a few times. "You know that's what I like. My boy's cunt nice and open, just begging to be wrecked..."

A soft keening accompanies the push of Antony's hand at this point, it's when Stephen always thinks he's going to split, that he just can't do it. The pressure builds to a point he's sucking breath in and out in sharp bursts and then suddenly his body _gives_ and Antony's hand slips inside him.

Fuck. Antony's own eyes close at the tight velvet heat clenched around him. His cock throbs violently, wet at its tip and he breathes deeply, savouring the feel of being inside his boy like this. "Such a slut for this," he murmurs. "Such a little fuck pig..." his fingers curled into a fist, pushing slightly deeper, making room, before he pulls back to the knuckles, eyes opening to see the gape of his boy's body.

Stephen's hands are balled into fists too, but his are pressed to the glass, as is his face, his eyes closed again as he concentrates on staying upright, on allowing his Sir to take every thing from him.

"What did I tell you, boy?" Antony says, but he doesn't stop, his voice soft, firm, his fist moving deeper. "Eyes open."

"I...I just..." Stephen starts to make excuses, but tails off, unable to set his thoughts into words that will make any sense. His lashes lift, and what appears are blue eyes hazy with subspace, pupils blown wide.

Antony nods his approval. "That's more like it," he murmurs, pulling his fist back right to the widest part before shoving it in again.

This time the noise that's punched from Stephen is a part grunt, part pain sound. As his Sir's knuckles press over his prostate, Stephen's dick spurts another dribble of clear precum and his body colours up with a dark flush.

"God. Look at you," Antony says, 'punching' Stephen's hole again, his gaze locked on their reflection in the window, his hand, his wrist disappearing beneath Stephen, between his cheeks. Into the very core of him. "Such a fucking hungry cunt."

Stephen can feel his legs starting to weaken, his body overwhelmed with the way his body is being used, abused. He opens his mouth and tries to speak. _Sir I need... my legs..._ But the only coherent word is 'legs' as his buckle.

Fuck. Antony's other arm goes around Stephen, every ounce of strength used to keep him upright long enough to get his hand out and his boy safely lowered to the floor, his shoulder wrenching in the process.

He's present enough to bring his arms up, so when Stephen hits the deck he's able to cushion himself - to a point. He hears Antony make a sound, one of pain, and he's pushing up moments later, disorientated and clumsy. "Sorry, boy sorry..." the words stutter out as he reaches for his Sir.

"It's okay," Antony assures Stephen, wincing as he wraps his arms around him. "It's not your fault."

That doesn't help, and Stephen struggles in Antony's arms, in his mind he should be resuming some kind of posture, some position so his Sir can resume using him. "Need..." he grinds out, his struggles becoming more determined. "Need... Sir... need to..." Confused, disorientated, Stephen becomes combative.

"Stop it," Antony orders, back to using all his strength to keep his boy from hurting himself -- or him. "Stephen!"

At the use of his name Stephen stills, the tone cutting through his panic. He slumps, his breath catching as if he's ready to cry, and he closes his eyes. They look a mess, sprawled in a heap of sweaty limbs on the bedroom floor.

"Hey," Antony murmurs, his heart sinking at the look on Stephen's face. "It's okay," he says again, kissing him softly, arms around him, his shoulder fucking _screaming_ as he moves them to the bed. "We're good. Lie down."

The use of his name had pulled Stephen back enough so that he's actually aware of what's going on. He lies on the bed as directed, but he's frowning, reaching for Antony. "I hurt you." The words come with sick realisation. "Oh fuck, I hurt you!"

"No. I hurt myself," Antony says firmly, stretching out beside Stephen and pulling him in the best he can. "It's just an old rotator cuff thing. I'll be fine."

Stephen can see the lie - in the pinched look on his lover's face. He chooses to not force the issue right now, not when they've both been smacked out of head space in such an unpleasant manner. He bites his lower lip, a crease between his brows. "I'm sorry, I should have tried to tell you sooner."

Antony shrugs. "Shit happens," he says softly, pressing another kiss to the corner of Stephen's mouth. "I probably shouldn't have fisted you standing up."

"Yeah lesson learned I guess." His frown doesn't dissipate though. "Maybe we should have a soak, together, it'll help us both,"

"That sounds like a good idea," Antony says. "You want me to run the tub?"

"No, I'll do it." He could do with using the bathroom anyway. "I'll shout when it's done." He rolls in to press a kiss to Antony's mouth. "Love you."

"Love you too," Antony murmurs, sitting up as Stephen heads for the bathroom. "I'm going to grab some water," he says, making his way to the other powder room where he quickly washes his hands before getting two bottles of water from the fridge. He cracks one open and downs two percocet, hoping they'll be enough to let him sleep.

Stephen runs the bath hot, adds some salts to it too, and while that's filling he cleans himself up, wincing as he wipes the lube from his ass. He's got the beginnings of a nasty headache, which he puts down to the swift exit out of headspace, he hopes the bath will head it off.

"Tony?" He sticks his head around the door. "Bath's run."

"Coming," Antony calls back, bringing the bottles of water with him. "Here," he says, pressing a kiss to Stephen's shoulder. "You should get some of this into you." He gets into the tub, hissing a little at the heat, but then he sinks down, legs spread, making room for his boy.

Stephen necks the water in one go. Tossing the bottle in the bin he moves to the bath, he climbs in, settles between Antony's splayed legs and leans back. "What a shit end to a great evening," he murmurs, rubbing his hands along his lover's thighs.

"Yeah," Antony agrees softly, because there's definitely no point in disagreeing. "But this is good." Another kiss brushed across the back of Stephen's neck.

"Hey, I guess we can't get it right all the time huh? Not with how we play." Stephen turns his head to rub his cheek against Antony's, stubble to stubble. "I panicked didn't I? I think all I could think was I needed to get back into position for you."

Antony nods. "Yeah, you did, and you're strong," he says with a smile. "But at least we found out I can call you back up even when you're freaking out."

"It was trained into me, before you, and then ingrained by you, your voice in the right tone." Stephen blows out a breath and brings one hand up to rub his forehead.

"Headache?" Antony asks with a frown.

"Yeah, it's easing off though." He drops his head back onto Antony's shoulder. "I'm okay, I might be a bit off tomorrow, but I'll be busy enough to be distracted," he sets his own hands over his lover's where they rest around his waist. "What about you, what did you hurt?"

"Just my shoulder," Antony says. "It'll be fine," he lies, mouth moving along the curve of Stephen's shoulder to his throat.

"You're distracting me," Stephen points out, his voice dropping to something much lower.

"I like distracting you," Antony responds, continuing the kisses. He slides one hand out from under Stephen's and wraps his fingers around his boy's mostly soft cock, slowly stroking it.

"Please, no," Stephen shakes his head, he doesn't want to pushed back into arousal, he's done, tired and ready to simply relax with his Sir. However he's also aware it's not his call, his body is not his, his pleasure is not his.

"Okay." Antony sits back, trying not to feel like he's been rebuffed. "Sorry. I thought it might make you feel better."

Antony's voice gives him away. Stephen half turns, and he lifts a hand to cup his lover's face. "You make me feel better, being in your arms makes me feel better, your skin on mine... makes me feel better," he spells it out. "What about you? What do you need? My Sir, my lover?"

"Just this," Antony says, "if it really does make you feel better." He still feels like he should've known better than to try and fist Stephen standing up and there's a part of him that's totally pissed at having fucked up one of their last nights together before he leaves on another job, but he's not about to put that on Stephen, insist on sex to make himself feel better.

"It really does, being with you is enough Tony." Stephen leans in and presses a kiss to his lover's mouth. "And we have tomorrow night." Their last together, before Antony flies out at some disgustingly early hour. When he returns, Stephen will have finished filming.

Antony nods. "I know," he says, and he does. He's just feeling out of sorts. Which is probably the shoulder and the fucking percocet. "I love you."

"I should hope so," Stephen smiles, "You're kind of stuck with me."


End file.
